convinced I had powers, I would have believed it then.
Rome sighed. “Stop wiggling and take stock. Does it burn you?”
His words penetrated my mind, and I stilled. The panic receded (slightly), as did the flames. The dying fire produced heat on my skin, I realized, but somehow not enough to burn me. “No, “ I said, shocked.
He reached around me, running his fingers down my arms to my now-extinguished hands, then tracing a fingertip over each nail bed. A delicious shiver stole over me, warm and erotic, enough to lick tiny embers of sensation over my skin. Hot, like the flames. Maybe hotter.
“You’re a menace to yourself, not to mention the rest of the world. No wonder the paras want you.”
“Excuse me. The what-a’s?”
“The paras. Para-agencies.” When I made no reply, he added, “Agencies that deal with the paranormal, like PSI.”
“Whatever. Those agencies can go to hell, “ I said, returning my attention to my hands. There were no burn marks, not a hint of redness. What struck me most, though, was how delicate they appeared next to Rome’s. While mine were slender and olive-toned, his were thick and strong. A lovely tawny color. My nails were a little scraggly—I hadn’t had the time (or inclination) to file them lately. His were perfectly buffed, obviously well maintained. Scars laced his palms.
“How did I start that fire?” I asked. “That was—that was …”
“Dangerous.” He let out another sigh. “You’re going to be more trouble than I anticipated.”
“You don’t know how I did it either, do you?” I felt like crying. “I set my fingers on fire, damn it. I don’t want to do that ever again. Not ever!”
“But you will. You’ll do worse before the day is out, I’m sure. These new abilities have already found their place in your chemical makeup. They’ve already changed you. While you slept, they were erratic and uncontrollable.” His words were whisper-soft, a caress that traveled along my spine. “Now …”
“Now?” I prompted, my stomach twisting painfully.
“Now you must wield them, not they you. You must dominate them or they will consume you.”
I tried to turn and look at him, but he stopped me by resting his chin on top of my head. Fine. He didn’t want me to move, I wouldn’t move. “How do you know they’ll consume me?” I asked, remaining in place.
“Maybe I’ve been where you are.”
My mouth fell open, and I instinctively tried to glance at him again. He applied more pressure to my head, keeping me immobile. “You can control the four elements, too?”
“No.” He didn’t elaborate.
I bit the inside of my cheek at such a cryptic nonanswer. He’d been where I was, yet he hadn’t experienced the same thing. How? Why? I despised this puzzle; I needed answers. Rome was the only person I knew who understood what was happening to me. And so, unfortunately, this government agent who’d threatened to neutralize me was also my only link to sanity. And I didn’t even know his last name.
“Help me understand, Rome. Please.”
No response.
Tears gathered in my eyes as wave after wave of helplessness bombarded me. “I won’t let you kill me, and I won’t let you take me to a lab. I didn’t ask for this to happen to me.”
“But it did happen.” His fingers became steel shackles on my wrists. “And just so you know, I didn’t keep you alive—” He cut himself off. “I didn’t keep you alive to watch you escape.” A note of warning dripped from his voice.
Before I had time to act, before I had time to protest, he had my arms anchored behind my back, wrists tied together. The cord he bound me with was cool and firm, unyielding—and foreshadowed malevolence.
My heart slammed against my ribs. “Let me go! What are you doing?”
He gripped my shoulders and whipped me around, finally letting me see his face. His gaze pierced me with a fierceness that somehow managed to shock, frighten and rock me all at once. It darted over me, hungry, reading me, perhaps, before it went flat again, the light in it suppressed as quickly as it had flared.
“Your five minutes are up.”
CHAPTER SIX
FASTER THAN I COULD OFFER up a prayer of “strike this bastard dead” I was trussed up like a Thanksgiving Day turkey and tossed over Rome’s shoulder. While he had me in such an undignified position, he tied my ankles with the rest of the cord.
“Put me down this instant!” I shouted, attempting to knee him in his midsection.
“Stop wiggling.” He purposefully bounced me on his shoulder, cutting off my air when my stomach hit the sharp edge of his collarbone.
When I could breathe again, I muttered, “You’re squashing my kidneys and my pancreas! Do you know how dangerous that is? Put me down before I sink into a coma.”
“If you can point to exactly where your pancreas is located, I’ll do as you so sweetly asked.”
“It’s—oh! Damn you. Put me down right now. I do not want my face in your ass.”
He chuckled, that deep, seductive sound all the more potent because this time it held rusty layers of disuse, as if he didn’t allow true humor in his life very often.
Keeping his stride smooth and easy so I didn’t bounce on his shoulder again, he sailed down the short hallway and into the kitchen. He plopped me onto a bar stool. Without the use of my hands, I teetered precariously and almost tumbled to the floral linoleum.
“Now we eat and talk.” He moved to the other side of the counter, heaping a plate with scrambled eggs and bacon.
I glared over at him, ignoring my grumbling stomach. “We were talking. There was no reason to tie me up like this.”
“There was every reason.” His gaze veered pointedly to my bound hands. “Call me silly, but I’d rather not be roasted alive.”
I took some comfort in that and grinned smugly. “Afraid of me, Rome?”
He snorted. “Afraid of your inability to control yourself, more like.”
Score one (or twelve million, but who’s counting?) for Rome. I lost all sense of superiority, and my shoulders slumped. He was right. If I could catch my own fingers on fire without any provocation—that I knew of—what else could I do? I hated having powers.
The moment the thought filled my head, I blinked. Powers. Me. Would I ever get used to those two words used in conjunction?
“You’re as likely to harm yourself as me, “ Rome said. He set the plate between us, scooped a portion of eggs onto a spoon and offered me the bite. “Open.”
“Like hell—oomph!”
The
